a priori
by ravarath
Summary: AU. In which the Torchwood Institute has finally managed to capture the Doctor, and Rose Tyler is their Assessor.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is AU, so some characters are depicted differently and major events have been changed and/or rearranged. The idea of a Torchwood Assessor is not mine; it's based off the character of Agnes from the Torchwood novel ****_Risk Assessment_****.**

* * *

The lab doors slid open with a quiet swish of air, causing Toshiko Sato to jump up from her seat. She clasped her hands nervously in front of her, recognizing the staccato click of high heeled shoes upon the floor. Only one person walked these halls like that.

Torchwood One was an efficient, well-oiled machine; it gotten that way due to the fact that its director ran the organization with two things: an uncompromising resolve and an iron fist.

Yvonne Hartman strode briskly into the room, two armed guards trailing in her wake. She was beautiful in a striking way, her blond hair always perfectly coiffed and her makeup applied impeccably. Today she was wearing a dark red suit and pencil skirt, both of which hugged the curves of her body. A casual observer might have thought she looked every bit the stylish socialite or a politician's wife.

But Tosh knew better. The woman was a tigress: shrewd, confident, and absolutely vicious. "Miss Hartman! What can I-"

"Save the pleasantries, Toshiko," Yvonne barked. "Where is he?"

"The prisoner was taken to containment unit two, ma'am." Tosh hurriedly grabbed a folder off the edge of her desk. "Captain Harkness was the one who made the capture, though he suffered a minor injury. Dr. Harper is treating him now in the medical wing."

Yvonne nodded, taking the folder and turning back towards the door. "Send Jack down to me as soon as he's done in medical."

"Yes, Miss Hartman."

The doors shut softly behind her as Yvonne walked out. She glanced over her shoulder at the two men flanking her. "Well boys, shall we go meet this Doctor?"

"Ma'am," one of them said. His name was Nick, if memory served her right. "Wouldn't it be wiser to have the interrogators question him first?"

The director scoffed, stopping in front of an elevator and pressing the down button. "This is the Doctor we're talking about, not some common street thug." She tapped her shoe impatiently as the lift ascended to their floor. "Besides, Torchwood has waited _years _for this moment. And quite frankly," Yvonne paused as she stepped through. "I've always wanted to meet our number one enemy." Folding her arms over her waist, the director watched the numbers drop as they descended to Torchwood's underground levels. "I do hope he's cute."

The elevator slowed to a stop a minute later, the doors sliding noiselessly open. A tall man stood waiting for them, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark blue trench coat.

Yvonne felt her lip curve into a small grin at the sight of him. Captain Jack Harkness was a woman's blush-worthy fantasy come to life: he was handsome, well-built, and daring. He'd originally worked in intelligence in the United States, but Yvonne had personally recruited him for Torchwood. As head of the institute's field operations, the Captain had always exceeded her expectations. She often wondered if that quality extended into his personal life as well.

"Captain, I'd heard you'd been injured."

Jack shrugged, holding up his left hand. The palm was wrapped in several layers of bandages. "Just a graze, really."

Yvonne followed him to the right and down a long hall, towards the detention cells. "The Doctor fought back?"

"His ship, actually," the Captain admitted ruefully. "Tried to force the lock and it gave me a nasty shock." He gestured vaguely at the ceiling. "It's up in R&D right now. They haven't been able to crack it open yet."

"Just a matter of time."

The cell they arrived at was a formidable one: four-inches of reinforced steel comprised the door, and the walls had been lined with alternating layers of both concrete and metal. The air shafts leading to the cell were equipped with gas canisters filled with a specially formulated compound that knocked out any human and most aliens. Well, most aliens that Torchwood had encountered thus far anyways.

The door itself was thoroughly covered with a myriad of security measures: three separate deadlocks, a retinal scanner, fingerprint verifier, and a voice analyzer amongst them. It was also rated to withstand rounds from almost any military-grade weapon. Short of a nuclear strike, the door was staying shut.

Directly next to it was another door, though this one had noticeably less fortified. Yvonne pressed her palm against the biometric scanner at the side. A low beep sounded, followed by a sharp click. The door opened smoothly on its hinges, revealing the small room within.

A middle aged man stood up as they entered. "Director Hartman, you're just in time. I was looking over the initial findings."

Jack nodded at him. "Dr. Frederic, good to see ya."

They all turned towards the adjacent wall. The majority of it was dominated by a glass window, offering an unimpeded look into the cell next door. "Is that him?" Yvonne stepped closer, her brow furrowing.

She'd expected a number of things, but this man was not one of them. If she hadn't known he was the reason for the formation of the Torchwood Institute, Yvonne might have thought he was an ordinary civilian. Albeit, a rather skinny, slightly eccentric-looking one with uplifted hair. He wore a well-fitted, slightly wrinkled pinstripe suit and pants, paired with white Chucks. Frowning, she leaned forward.

He was pacing the cell calmly, expression calm and hands shoved into pants pockets. Abruptly he turned towards them. Yvonne bit back a gasp, eyes narrowing as he waved cheerily at his observers. "He can see us?"

Her chief medical officer shook his head. "I'm not sure, ma'am. It might just be that his senses are keener than ours."

She turned away from the glass. "What have you found?"

"It's incredible," Frederic replied, pointing at the Doctor. "Whatever kind of alien he is, they're much more evolved than humans: there's a binary vascular system, two extra lobes in the brain, more subdural and subcutaneous layers in the skin than a human's, a second liver. His biology is completely extraordinary, and that's just based on preliminary scans I've taken. He has organs that I can't even identify." He shook his head in disbelief. "I could literally spend the rest of my life just studying him."

Yvonne's eyes skimmed quickly over the medical files the man proffered. "But is he dangerous? That's what I want to know."

The medical officer hesitated for a minute before answering. "In my opinion?" He sighed, leaning back against the wall. "He has no physical traits that indicate a predilection towards violence."

Jack frowned. "But?"

"But..." The man bit his lip, trying to find the right words. "Obviously, he's highly intelligent. His physiology is such that he could survive a lot of things that would outright kill a man. Is he dangerous? Perhaps. One thing I know for sure is this: he is not someone you ought to underestimate."

Yvonne tapped a finger lightly against her lips, considering. "Thank you, Frederic," she murmured. After a minute, she straightened up and smiled broadly at Jack. "Well, Captain, let's go meet our enemy."

Jack smirked, cocking an eyebrow. "Enemy or not, it's nice to deal with a good-looking alien for a change."

* * *

The Doctor kept his shoulders relaxed, planting his feet one in front of the other with precise motions as he paced. It wasn't a bad prison cell, truth be told. The stark white color was a tad boring, yes, but it was definitely roomier than some of the alien ones he'd encountered (and occasionally been thrown into) in the past.

If he had to be completely honest, the Doctor wasn't really bothered by the fact that he was imprisoned. No, it was the fact that he'd gotten caught in the first place. Barely two seconds out of the TARDIS no less.

Perhaps if Martha were still with him, it would've been different.

The Doctor sighed, feeling a distinct pang of regret. Brilliant Martha Jones. She had loved the traveling, adored the alien sights, and she was completely fantastic at saving the day. But Martha had wanted more. She'd wanted it all: time and space and the love of a Time Lord. He'd realized that long before she confessed, probably before she even admitted it to herself. And though he recognized what she desired, the Doctor could not give it to her. He liked her, certainly. But it had always been a platonic relationship, at least from his side of it.

In the end, Martha had left. She was a decisive woman and had chosen to not wait around for something unlikely to happen. Instead, she had returned to the normal life: bickering parents, a devoted boyfriend, mortgages and bills and work. Well, almost normal. Her time with him had the unexpected effect of throwing her career into overdrive. Just two days after returning home, UNIT had offered her a prestigious position in their organization. But then again, saving the planet several times was bound to get a person noticed.

And wouldn't you know it? Martha hadn't been gone a week and already he'd found trouble. All he'd done was set the coordinates on the TARDIS for 59th century Pluto; for whatever reason, he'd ended up in London in 2007 instead.

Not a bad year or place, really. He'd grown quite fond of the city over the years, despite its tendency to attract trouble of the alien kind. In fact, he had just-

There was a rapid series of muted clicks and the over-large door opened slowly. The Doctor looked up to see the barrels of two assault rifles leveled at him. He frowned, standing up straighter. "Right. Guns. I see you're that sort of an organization. The guns and ghosts sort, I mean. Quite frankly, I never had much use for guns, but the ghosts are-"

"Quiet." Nick flicked the end of his weapon. "Move back five steps. Keep your hands where we can see them."

The Doctor sighed, stepping back and holding his arms aloft with a look of distaste at the weapons.

Yvonne finally entered, Jack trailing close behind. The smile on her face was curiously bright. "Doctor," she remarked with satisfaction. "We meet at last. I must say, it's quite an honor."

He blinked, brow creasing in confusion. "Um, right. You've heard of me then?" It certainly didn't bode well that these people already knew his name.

"Well of course we have!" She chuckled, waving a hand around her. "The Doctor and the TARDIS! If it weren't for you, none of us would even be here."

He didn't flinch, but it was only just. They knew who he was and even the name of his ship. Whoever they were, they'd been prepared for his appearance. "And...and you are...?"

"Oh, plenty of time for that later," she replied jovially. "Now, according to our records, you're not one for traveling alone. The Doctor and his companion, that's the pattern isn't it?" Her friendly expression abruptly turned severe. "There's no point hiding anything, Doctor. Not from us. So where is she?"

The Time Lord returned her stare coolly, jaw tightening for the barest moment.

Jack felt an inexplicable fear, and his hand drifted slowly towards the pistol in his holster. He had read the files enough to be wary, and rightfully so. This Doctor looked and talked like a human, but that only made it easier for people to underestimate him. That was not a mistake the Captain planned to make today.

Just as suddenly as it had come, the Doctor's frosty demeanor disappeared. "Sorry," he said agreeably. "I'm afraid it's just me today."

Yvonne looked unconvinced, but didn't press the matter. "Well, like I said, Doctor, there's no point hiding anything from us." She smiled again, the tension seemingly forgotten. "Follow me."

The Doctor hesitated, but Jack nodded towards the door. "Let's go."

Jogging a bit to catch up, he fell into step beside her. "You keep saying 'there's no point hiding anything from us.' Who's us? Who are you people?"

"We are many things, Doctor." Yvonne pushed stopped at the elevator doors, crossing her arms as Jack pushed the up button. "This organization has been an integral part of Britain's defenses for over a century."

He looked dubiously at her. "All those times on earth and I've never heard of you.

"Well, of course not. You're the enemy." Yvonne flashed an amused look towards Jack.

The Captain smirked back. "We're called Torchwood."

"Torchwood?" The Doctor echoed, following them into the lift. The name was familiar in an unexpected way. "Torchwood. That was the name of the house in Scotland, in-"

"1879, yes," Yvonne finished for him. "Where you encountered Queen Victoria and the werewolf. Her Majesty created the Torchwood Institute with the express intention of keeping Britain great and fighting the alien horde." She chuckled at his bewildered expression. "You're actually named in the Torchwood Foundation charter."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Her Majesty designated you as an enemy to the Crown."

"Well," he shrugged, rubbing reflectively at the back of his neck. "That's hardly unusual."

He remembered that day vividly; it had been one of his earlier adventures with Martha. A quick jaunt to see Ian Dury in concert had instead landed them in Victorian Scotland, directly in front of the Queen's guards no less. They'd put a stop to the creature that had attacked, but clearly those events had more far-reaching repercussions than he'd initially thought.

The lift stopped barely a minute later. Yvonne stepped out first, leading the little group down a starkly white hall. "We've come a long way since then, Doctor." They arrived finally at a set of double doors, which Yvonne pushed open with a flourish. "See for yourself."

The Doctor was momentarily distracted by the sheer number of things and people in the room. Crates were stacked almost to the ceiling and metal lab benches were lined with all sorts of alien tech. There were even several space crafts parked along the walls. Antiquities shared floor space with extraterrestrial weapons and all sorts of odds and ends. Men and women milled busily about, their voices filling the area with a low murmur in the background. If he didn't know better, the Doctor might have mistaken this for an off-world flea market or fair. Unfortunately, he suspected something far more sinister was happening here.

One particular ship caught his eye, and not in a good way. "That's a Jathaa Sunglider." The firepower in those ships was formidable, and he couldn't imagine why one would be here of all places.

Yvonne looked towards it too, looking pleased rather than concerned, as the Doctor was. "Yes. Came down to Earth ten years ago off the Shetland Islands."

"What, did it crash?"

"No, we shot it down," she replied nonchalantly. "It violated our airspace. Then we stripped it bare. The weapon that destroyed the Sycorax a few years back? That was us." The Doctor looked thunderstruck at her words, but Yvonne started walking once more. "Now, if you'd come with me."

The Time Lord followed her wordlessly, his thoughts whirling over what she'd just told him. This Torchwood evidently possessed considerable technology; clearly though, it was using it far more aggressively than he'd like.

"The Torchwood Institute has a motto," she continued, oblivious to the Doctor's discomfort. "'If it's alien, it's ours.' Anything from the sky, we strip it down and we use it. All for the good of the British Empire. Ah!" Yvonne stopped next to a group of researchers. One of the men obligingly handed her a large gun, its internal circuitry visible under the transparent material of the distinctive nose. "Do you recognize this, Doctor?"

He had to look it over for a moment longer than necessary; it shouldn't have been in this time period at all. "That's a particle gun."

Her pleased look only increased his wariness. "Good, isn't it? Took us eight years to get it to work."

"It's the twenty-first century," he added, eyebrows raised. "You can't _have _particle guns."

Yvonne was taken aback. "Well we must defend our borders from the aliens." Shrugging, she returned it to its user. "Thank you...Sebastian, isn't it?" He answered affirmatively, and Yvonne smiled again. "Thank you." She continued after the man had turned away. "I think it's very important to know everyone by name. Torchwood is a very modern organization." She waved brightly at another cluster of workers nearby. "People skills, that's what it's all about these days. And I'm a people person."

He looked around thoughtfully. "Have you got anyone called Alonso?"

The woman looked mildly surprised at his question. "I don't think so. Is that important?"

The box she was standing in front of had piqued his interest. Or more specifically, its contents. "Hm, I suppose not. What was your name?"

"Yvonne," she replied matter-of-factly. "Yvonne Hartman."

He brushed past her as she spoke, reaching out a hand and snagging the object in the box by its thin black handle.

"Ah, yes," Yvonne wasn't the least bit disturbed by him rummaging through things. "Now, we're rather fond of these." She moved to his side, tapping it lightly with a fingertip. "The magnaclamp, found in a spaceship buried at the base of Mount Snowdon. Attach it to an object, and it cancels the mass. I could use it to lift two tons of weight with a single hand." She gave him a playful smirk. "That's an imperial ton, by the way. Torchwood refuses to go metric."

"Hm." the Doctor seemed to barely hear her. Instead, he looked the magnaclamp over briefly before dropping it back into the box. Like the particle gun, it was too advanced for the present century. However, there were more pressing concerns on his mind.

He wandered over to another table full of objects, peering and poking at whim. "So, what about these ghosts?"

"Ah, yes, the ghosts." Yvonne sighed softly. As she suspected, that was what had drawn the Doctor to them. "They're what you might call a side effect."

He immediately turned around to face her. "Of what?"

"All in good time, Doctor," she replied, unconcerned. "There is an itinerary, trust me."

At that moment, a small vehicle drove by them. It was nondescript and of a neutral color, but the thing loaded onto the back of it caught the Doctor's eye: his TARDIS. He watched it pull away, turn a corner and disappear into the hustle and bustle of the Torchwood operations.

Yvonne followed his look, completely unashamed of the fact that they'd taken his ship. "If it's alien, it's ours," she repeated.

The Doctor shrugged. Older and more advanced species had tried to open a TARDIS before without success; he doubted Torchwood would make any leeway at all. "You'll never get inside it."

"Hm, et cetera." She flicked her hand to the side. "Shall we?" They resumed walking, weaving around both people and a mishmash of equipment.

The Doctor continued to look around with mild interest. "But if I'm the enemy, does that mean I'm a prisoner?"

To her credit, Yvonne looked thoroughly comfortable with the question. "Oh yes. But we'll make you perfectly comfortable. And there is so much you can teach us, starting with this."

They had reached a heavy metal door with no visible handles or openings. Two armed guards stood stiffly on either side, moving only to salute the director as she approached.

Reach into her jacket pocket, Yvonne withdrew a slim ID card and tapped it lightly against a sensor along the wall. Instantly, the door slid open with a beep, revealing the large room within.

While the other rooms had been brightly painted and well-lit, this area seemed to strive for the opposite. Jet black linoleum lined the floor and unpolished metal covered the walls. Bare support beams stretched to the ceiling, various apparatuses clustered along their bases.

Immediately, their eyes were drawn toward the far side of the room. A raised platform had been built there, several feet high and with a short staircase leading up to it. Two men in lab coats were working there when they entered, although they'd stopped as soon as the door had slid open. And above them...was a sphere.

"Now, what do you make of that?"

The Doctor raised his head, transfixed by sight: it was a perfect sphere, smooth and with a distinctly metallic look to it. It floated in midair, unassisted and unmoving. The mere sight gave him a sense of foreboding; there was a taste of fear and danger in the very air around it.

"You must be the Doctor." One of the scientists approached him, looking slightly nervous. He extended a hand. "Rajesh Singh. It's an honor, sir."

The Time Lord barely noticed, his attention riveted by the sphere. "Yeah."

Yvonne walked closer, arms dropping to her sides. "We've got no idea what it is, Doctor," she said in a subdued voice. "But people don't like it. It makes you feel strange, like you want to run and hide. Like it's forbidden.

The Doctor reached into a pocket, pulling out a pair of 3-D glasses and jumping up the short flight of stairs up the platform. Jack looked bewildered as he put them on; this Doctor was every bit as eccentric as his file had indicated. But for once, he held his tongue. He'd only been in this room once before, but like then, it seemed to practically drain the humor and bravado out of him.

Rajesh cleared his throat, standing beside the director. "We've tried analyzing it, using every device imaginable. But, according to our instruments, the sphere doesn't exist. It weighs nothing, it doesn't age, no heat, no radiation, and has no atomic mass. It is absent."

Yvonne took another step forward, her hand on the railing. Even she hesitated to get too close. "Well, Doctor?"

He stood almost directly beneath the sphere, his face parallel to the ceiling. He had always believed this technology to be merely theoretical; to actually see it before his very eyes was disconcerting. But more importantly: only a handful of species had been intellectually advanced enough to theorize about the void, much less construct a ship to send into it. The fact that this was here boded nothing good. "This is a void ship." Even as he spoke the words, the Doctor could scarcely believe them himself.

But then, there had been the barest of whispers during the Time War, rumors of desperate measures that had eluded even the Doctor.

"And what is that?"

Finally, the Doctor turned back towards the others. He tugged the glasses off his face, folding them neatly away. "Well, it's impossible, for starters." He tilted his head back again. "I always thought it was just a theory, but..." Certainly that was a train of thought to explore later. "It's a vessel designed to exist outside time and space." He came back to the stairs, dropping lightly down to sit on the topmost step. "Traveling through the void."

Rajesh, Jack, and Yvonne all leaned closer to catch his words. "And what's the void?" Rajesh looked a little skeptical, as if he thought the Doctor was feeding him a tall tale.

He thought a moment, gathering his thoughts. "The space between dimensions. There's all sorts of realities around us, different dimensions, billions of parallel universes all stack up against each other. The void is the space between, containing absolutely nothing." The Doctor looked at all of them, emphasizing this point. "Can you imagine that? Nothing. No light, no dark, no up, no down, no life, no time. Without end."

Jack felt a chill go down his spine. Even the Doctor looked disturbed, and that was definitely not a good sign.

"My people called it the void," the Time Lord continued. "The Eternals call it the Howling. But some people call it hell."

Yvonne looked faintly shaken, but Rajesh proved to be a bit more logical. "But someone build the sphere. What for? Why go there?"

The Doctor could think of several reasons off the top of his head, most of which were not well-intentioned. But he decided against voicing those. "To explore, to escape," he answered, turning to look back towards the sphere. "You could sit inside that thing, an eternity would pass you by. The Big Bang, end of the universe, start of the next. Wouldn't even touch the sides. You'd exist outside the whole of creation."

Unexpectedly, Yvonne smiled with satisfaction at Rajesh. "You see? We were right. There is something inside of it."

Oh, humans. The Doctor could practically hear the thoughts likely running through her head at the moment: she hoped for something dangerous but controllable, something Torchwood could pull apart and remake for their own uses. "Yes."

Rajesh leaned in eagerly, his expression identical to Yvonne's. "So how do we get in there?"

"We don't." He pushed off the stairs, resolute on this point. "We send that thing back into hell!" These people and their Torchwood had no idea, not even an inkling of the very horrors that could be within that sphere. They were blinded by greed and curiosity to consider one key thing: the sphere had been sent into the void for a reason, and it was better to put it right back. "How did it get here in the first place?"

Crossing her arms, the director looked annoyed at the Doctor's abruptness. "Well, that's how it all started. The sphere came through into this world, and the ghosts followed in its wake."

He stiffened. "Show me."

"No, Doctor," Yvonne argued, nodding at the guards standing besides the doors.

They immediately moved in front of the door, blocking his way. He turned back around, the beginnings of real anger creeping into his gaze. "What you're doing here is dangerous, Miss Hartman. Let me help you."

"Just as the legends say," Yvonne returned exasperatedly. "The Doctor, lording his alien authority over mankind." She walked closer, arms akimbo. "You want to help us? Then tell me how to open that ship."

* * *

In her lab, Toshiko was studiously double-checking the hourly reports. Output from the ghost project was increasing with every shift, and Yvonne wanted extrapolations completed by tomorrow. Which _should_ have been a straightforward task.

She bit her lip, staring hard at the latest graph. Was that a blip? It could be anything: a malfunction in the recording program, energy feeding back into the flow gradient, or just a faulty gauge. But it had started occurring in the last few hours, and Toshiko had yet to pinpoint the cause.

Frustrated, she tapped briskly at her keyboard. She'd created a rough set of algorithms to try and isolate the problem, but so far it hadn't made any difference. Perhaps it was time to take these concerns to Yvonne and see if-

A shrill beep from the computer made Toshiko start. She leaned forward as it repeated, a pop-up window appearing on the screen, glowing red and taking the appearance of a sealed envelope. it took her a moment to recognize it as a high-priority alert from the Torchwood central mainframe. Tosh herself had upgraded it, and it was programmed to monitor and regulate everything from communication traffic to the temperature in the building. Alerts like this were rare; they were issued only when the computer lacked a pre-determined protocol for a given situation. She double-clicked it, feeling slightly apprehensive as she did so.

The message was surprisingly short, consisting of seven words that Tosh couldn't make heads or tails of: _Internal alert - Emergency Protocol: Bad Wolf activated. _

She checked the personnel log; all Torchwood employees carried photo identification cards, each of which were embedded with a minuscule GPS chip. Currently, both Yvonne and Jack were still down in the lower floors, presumably extracting information from this mysterious 'Doctor.' Rather than interrupt whatever conversation was ongoing, Tosh composed a brief message and sent it off to Jack's phone.

* * *

The Doctor was still speaking heatedly to Yvonne and Rajesh when Jack's phone vibrated.

Extracting it carefully from his pocket, the Captain stepped away from the others before turning it on. His eyes flicked quickly over the sentences, widening as he reached the end.

_Bad Wolf._

Oh, Yvonne was going to throw an absolute fit. But Jack felt a distinct sense of anticipation; the two times this had occurred during his employment here had been nothing short of memorable.

Tapping a number quickly into his phone, Jack found it difficult to contain the excitement in his voice. "Tosh, are you sure?"

She sounded mildly confused; but to be fair, she'd only been with Torchwood for a little over a year. "Yeah, I'm sure. That's the alert, word for word. But Jack, what's Bad Wolf? It's not listed in any of my databases."

He glanced over his shoulder. Yvonne was giving him a pointed look. "It's trouble, Tosh. But the good kind." With that, he hung up, striding briskly back over to the others.

The director met him halfway, keeping one eye on the Doctor. "What's wrong?"

He smirked, crossing his arms casually. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

She rolled her eyes. "You have that gleeful, excited look on your face, Captain. I've only seen that when something was going to happen." Yvonne sighed, resigned. "Something I'm not going to like."

In reply, Jack opened his phone's inbox. He selected the latest message and held it up for Yvonne to read.

All she needed was a quick glance. Her sunny expression immediately darkened. Well, she hadn't been wrong. "Get the Doctor back into the cell," she whispered tersely. "I need to get upstairs."

She ignored Jack's amused chuckle as she hurried out the door and toward the lift. She wasn't certain what activated the Bad Wolf protocols; perhaps it was the appearance of the Doctor or maybe even the ghost shifts. One thing was certain though: today of all days was one that she didn't need the Torchwood Assessor awake and interfering with things.

Nick caught up to her as she was stepping through the elevator doors. "Ma'am? Is there a problem?"

She shook her head, smoothing a hand over her skirt. "You've been here for quite a few years, am I right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Yvonne's hand brushed over the buttons. "Then you should understand," she sighed, irritated. "The Assessor is waking up."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Just to clear some confusion up- you don't need to have read "Risk Assessment" (in fact, I haven't read it. I just happened to stumble across the Wikia article on it while looking up a Torchwood episode) or seen Torchwood to understand this story. The role of a Torchwood Assessor will be explained when the character comes more prominently into the story.**_

* * *

The Doctor was intrigued by Yvonne's sudden change in demeanor. She had been unflappable from the moment she'd stepped into the cell they had put him in. Whatever message Jack had given her seemed to have completely derailed that; she had hurried out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

Jack walked back over, looking thoroughly unconcerned. "Sorry, Doc," he said lightly. "I'm afraid we have to cut the tour short."

"Problem?" He pushed his hands into his trouser pockets.

Surprisingly, Jack winked. "Nothing you need to be concerned about. But I am going to have to take you back to your cell."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Oh, don't mind me. I'll just have a peek around."

Jack led them back into the hallway, with Nick bringing up the rear. "Yeah, somehow I don't see that happening."

* * *

Tosh quickly got to her feet as Yvonne stormed into her lab. "Miss Hartman, I'm sorry if I interrupted you, but I-"

"Not important," the older woman interrupted, moving to stand beside Toshiko. "Show me."

"Yes, ma'am," Tosh murmured quickly. Her fingers tapped fluidly over the keyboard, bringing back up the original system message. She leaned back a little to give Yvonne more room. "That's all it said."

The director frowned, closing her eyes briefly. "Did you run a trace? What set it off?"

"I-I'm not sure," Tosh said nervously. "There's no mention of this in the protocol databases I have access to. I did try to trace it back to a source node, but ran into a snag." She reached for her keyboard again. "I didn't get very far before hitting a wall of counter-intrusion software," she explained. "It's the most voluminous and complex I've ever seen. It would take me hours to just look over all the data clusters, never mind crack it."

Yvonne looked even more irritated at that, and she straightened up. "Forget that, then," she sighed. "The source isn't important. What is it doing?"

Tosh tabbed over to another window. "I was able to track that fortunately; the encryption was in the database. So far, this 'Bad Wolf' protocol is diverting energy from the power grid into one of the basement rooms." She pulled up a three-dimensional blueprint of the building, tapping on a small cube at the very bottom. "Not a lot, but enough to run some high-tech stuff. Also, there's-"

"All right, I know all this," the director cut her off impatiently. "What I want to know is can you stop whatever it's doing?"

She looked up in surprise. "Stop it? As in-"

"Yes, Toshiko," Yvonne huffed, narrowing her eyes. "Can you stop it?"

"I can try," she offered, hesitant. "I can definitely slow it down, but I'm not sure if I can stop it all together." Tosh touched the screen, indicating a section of code. "The source signal is still intact and broadcasting behind all this counter-intrusion software. I can intercept and terminate the system changes it makes, but I have to do it one by one. And since the source is still there, it'll just restart whatever I shut off."

Yvonne turned away, deep in thought. "How long would it take you to crack that software?"

Biting her lip, Tosh shrugged. "By myself? A couple of days at the earliest. And that's if I don't run into other snags."

Nodding, the older woman headed back towards the door. "Start working on it, then. Grab anyone who can help you. I don't care what department you have to pull them out of, but this takes priority."

Tosh watched as she left the room, still perplexed. Whatever Bad Wolf was, it had Yvonne acting strangely.

* * *

Once again, the Doctor found himself in the sparsely furnished cell. He waited precisely ten minutes before casually slipping his right hand into his jacket pocket. Jack had done a quick pat down to check for weapons when he had brought the Doctor in; he'd managed to relieve him of sixteen pens (in various colors), a half-full package of Hob Nobs, a ball of string, two handfuls of assorted alien currency, and a few bent paperclips.

Apparently Torchwood's files on him didn't encompass some of the finer points of Time Lord science. Specifically, the bigger on the inside part. But that was all right, especially since the Captain had missed taking anything of importance. Well, no, that wasn't entirely correct. The Hob Nobs were fairly important. And he could think of half a dozen previous occasions where a ball of string had come in handy.

After several moments of rummaging, his fingers closed around the thin shaft of his sonic screwdriver. It took a second to position his hand comfortably, but the Doctor managed to hold it in his pocket inconspicuously.

His eyes scanned every inch of the room. The door was definitely a no-go; he'd seen the three deadlocks the minute they'd led him to it. But they had been concentrated on the actual locking device, leaving the other mechanisms vulnerable. Certainly something he could use to his advantage.

The Doctor stuck out his tongue, letting air of the room flow over the sensitive surface. There was a slight but detectable current, tinged with a distinct metallic taste. Air was being vented into the room, and the directionality suggested it was coming from the northwest corner. Sure enough, there was a rectangle portion of the wall that was slightly recessed, and it was about seven feet off the ground. It would have to do. If Martha had still been traveling with him, she could have given him a boost. But today, he'd have to make do with a running jump assisted by a strategically placed low bench.

He glanced at the opposite corner. A tiny camera was mounted where the walls converged. The Doctor squinted; it looked fairly advanced for the twenty-first century. Unfortunately for Torchwood, it paled in comparison to sonic technology.

His finger pressed briefly on the sonic, aiming it at the door hinges. With a sharp pop, the internal circuitry shorted out; tiny wisps of smoke trailed into the air. Immediately, the shrill blare of klaxons sounded in the halls. The Doctor paused, grinning madly up at the camera before disabling it with another pulse from the sonic screwdriver.

Finally, he took aim at the air vent cover. "Right. Allons-y!" The electronic seals sparked for a moment before they splintered, dropping the section of metal to the floor with a sharp clatter.

He backed up until he was flush with the wall, preparing to run. "I should say that more often," he remarked to no one in particular. It was a good phrase. Concise, positive. Brilliant even.

Loud, dull thumps could be heard from the door but the Doctor paid it no mind. Instead, he stuck the sonic screwdriver between his teeth and took a quick breath. Breaking into a brisk jog, he hopped up lightly onto the bench and propelled himself towards the opening.

His left hand slipped off the smooth edge, but he managed to get an adequate grip with his right. After a moment of fumbling, both hands were firmly clenched along the vent opening. With a grunt of effort, the Doctor pulled himself up. He frowned in distaste as he started to crawl along the air shaft. It was a tight fit, but fortunately his current regeneration was on the skinny side.

* * *

The entire floor was in a state of bedlam.

Jack pushed through a group of soldiers, making his way to the front of the gathered men. "Status!" Alarms were ringing all along the halls, and several security teams had rushed down. "And someone turn these things off! What's going on in there?"

"Captain," Nick elbowed his way to Jack's side. "The Doctor apparently had some sort of weapon with him. He shorted out the cameras."

"Great," Jack sighed, finally reaching the door to containment two. "Get this thing open."

"We're trying, sir," a woman nearby replied. She had a tablet in hand, several cables running from it to an external port on an adjacent wall. "He managed to fry most of the components in the hinge equalizer. I'm trying to reroute, but we may have to open it manually."

Jack groaned in frustration. That alone would literally take half a day. He turned away, fingers drumming impatiently against his thigh as he thought. That door could withstand an army for several hours, never mind one single man. The Doctor had to have realized that. So why break the only means to open said door?

Jack stopped. _Oh, crap_.

He turned back towards the woman, eyes wide. "You."

"Elena," she supplied, giving him a nervous smile. "Elena Danforth."

"Yeah, hi," he replied quickly. "Elena, forget the door. I'm more interested in the air shafts feeding into this cell. Are their gas canisters still online?"

"Um, w-well," she spluttered, fingers moving jerkily over the tablet screen. "Sorry, just give me a second."

He pointed a finger at Nick. "I want you to get up to field ops, grab Suzie and tell her to bring one of the drones."

"Yes, sir."

Jack turned impatiently back towards Elena. "Well?"

"The canisters are active, but they didn't go off when the door was disabled." She bit her lip, typing as quickly as she could. "I think I can trigger them manually." Her eyes narrowed as an alert flashed on her screen. "Captain, thermal scans are picking up something in the air ducts."

"It's gotta be the Doctor." Jack grimaced. Yvonne was not going to like this. "Trigger them. I want him unconscious."

"I'm trying, sir," she answered, frowning. "The system responses are unusually slow right now. Mainframe traffic is abnormally elevated for some reason."

"Great," he murmured. Grabbing his phone, Jack punched in Toshiko's extension.

"Sato." She sounded slightly distracted when she answered a minute later.

"Tosh, we got a situation. Could do with some help down here."

"Sorry, Jack," she said regretfully. "Yvonne's got me working on something else right now."

"Something else?" He repeated in disbelief. "The Doctor broke out of our most secure cell and you're working on something else?" He readjusted the phone against his ear. "What could possibly be so-"

"Captain!" Elena called, beckoning him urgently. "We've got a problem."

* * *

The Doctor pushed his palm firmly against the grating, increasing the pressure slowly until he felt it give. He reached out quickly with his other hand, but the piece of metal slipped out of its setting before he could grab it.

He grimaced as it fell to the ground with a loud clatter. That ball of string would've been great at preventing this. Cautiously, the Time Lord poked his head out of the opening. It appeared to be a small, vacant office. Besides a worn desk, two faded chairs and a dusty-looking computer, the room was completely empty. The door was closed, and a quick pulse with his sonic ensured it was locked too.

With a relieved sigh, the Doctor climbed down into the office. Albeit, he did it a bit clumsily but then again, who was here to witness that?

"Oh, lovely," he murmured happily, sitting himself down in front of the computer. It looked like an obsolete model, but appeared to be in working condition. He flipped a switch and the screen flashed white for several minutes before a login prompt appeared. Pixels in the background resolved into a strange looking logo: geometric shapes grouped together to form the letter T.

Out of habit, he slipped his glasses on and leaned in. He brought the sonic up to the screen, switching it to setting 736b-1. The on-screen pixels shattered with a quick burst from it, reforming into a myriad of scrolling, jewel-colored numerals. The sight brought a grin to the Doctor's lips. All this alien tech and Torchwood was still using human-created encryption schemes. It was easy to locate a vulnerable data cluster and spike it. A simple neutralizing pulse from his sonic rendered it useless, and all of Torchwood's digital information was at his fingertips.

Humming a light tune, the Doctor first disabled all the thermal sensors in the building, followed by the CCTV cameras. He frowned; the commands had taken longer than expected to go through. Another flick of the sonic screwdriver and the clusters shrank into tiny squares of flashing color.

The Time Lord's eyes looked the data over quickly. This was a visual representation of all the electronic traffic in the building: yellow points and lines stood for communication, red for the power grid, and numerous others. On top of the normal day-to-day things, it looked like some type of sleeper protocol had taken over a chunk of the mainframe. It was overriding certain local functions, like electricity and security. He likened it to an octopus: reaching out with numerous digital arms and grabbing hold of prey. Oddly enough, independent signals from other in-house terminals were trying to shut down the protocol. Thus far they were failing, but the cyberspace tug-of-war was using up a majority of the system's resources, causing it to slow down.

He raised an eyebrow. How strange. In the midst of all this, data crawlers were making their way unnoticed through Torchwood's logs, copying information and ferrying it back to a source relay node.

Leaning back, the Doctor weighed the information and possibilities apparent to him so far: ghosts were appearing regularly all over the globe and had been for about three months now. Yvonne had said that they'd followed in the wake of the void ship. And while people were calling them ghosts, but the Doctor was certain it was something far more sinister. They were just shadows for now, pale imitations of a true form. The exact nature of their true form eluded him so far, but he had no intention of letting them cross over.

And that ship...it had cracked the walls of this universe like a bullet through glass. Even so, the dimensional barriers ought to have re-closed behind it. He had to find the hole and try to close it permanently.

He brought up a three-dimensional rendering of Torchwood Tower's floor plans. Most of the rooms were either of little immediate interest to him or labeled vaguely. "But what's this," he said quietly to himself. The topmost room in this building was using nearly sixty percent of the energy resources. Something was going on up there, something requiring massive amounts of electricity. The floor plans were of little help there: the room was ambiguously designated as 'the lever room.'

The computer trilled, interrupting his perusal. The Doctor sighed; someone had managed to ping his location, which meant he had better get moving.

He traced a finger along the bottom of the rendering. He was currently in one of the underground levels, far from the lever room at the top floor. Using the lift was out of the question: it was undoubtedly being closely monitored. There were also two sets of stairwells leading up towards the top of the Tower, but ascending them would mean walking right past floor after floor of Torchwood employees.

The Time Lord stood, tapping his sonic lightly against his chin in silent reflection. There was always the TARDIS: he knew for a fact that Torchwood had brought it into the building. The question was, where?

Once again, the floor plans were of little help. There were dozens of labs and storage areas all over the building, and his ship could be kept in any one of them. "Think, think," he muttered. "Where would they stick a time machine?" He traced a finger over the squares, lines and rectangles on the screen. Process of elimination, then. The areas labeled as the medical wing could be excluded, surely. Floors four through six were devoted to chemical research; the Doctor was fairly certain he could ignore those as well. The seventh and eighth floors were using only minimal amounts of electricity. The labs designated for weapons study and development were consuming far higher levels of energy; they were probably the most likely places to start looking.

He took one last look at the floor plans, carefully committing it to memory. There wasn't one easy, direct path up to that part of the building, but there was certainly a scenic route. And that began just down the hall, up several flights of service stairs.

* * *

"Get these cameras and sensors back online!" Jack barked, weaving his way through a throng of technicians. Two teams were working on getting the cell door open, but he had a sinking feeling that told him it was already too late. When both the CCTV cameras and internal building sensors went down, Jack just took it as confirmation of that.

He stopped next to a slender, dark-haired woman. "Please say you have some good news for me, Suzie."

"Sorry, Jack," She replied, shaking her head while holding out a small tablet. "I sent the drone down the ventilation shaft like you asked. Cell's empty and there's no sign of the prisoner."

"Great," he sighed sarcastically. "Just great." At that moment, his cell vibrated in his pocket. Jack glanced at the caller ID. Maybe there was some hope yet. "Yeah?"

"Jack, I've found something," Tosh said eagerly. "There's an unauthorized terminal accessing the mainframe. Whoever's using it didn't log onto the server with any credentials. It looks like they just hacked their way in."

The Captain perked up. "Please tell me you have a location."

"Room designation is B14-2315126. Just one floor down."

"Tosh, I owe ya one," Jack said gratefully, snapping the phone shut. He waved curtly towards Nick. "I want you to take a team and head down to the vacant offices using the lifts. Post a man at every door and exit. I'm taking my team down via the stairwell. We'll cut the Doctor off." He started to move off, but paused for a second. "No guns. I want him alive."

* * *

The Doctor froze, his hands on the railing. It was faint, but he could hear the distinct drum of footsteps approaching from further up the stairs. He frowned in distaste; they'd found him faster than he had anticipated. As quietly as he could, the Doctor turned back to the stairwell door. He'd have to find another way up.

He slipped back through it soundlessly, eyes darting side to side. There was a whole system of air shafts, and he ought to be able to move up a few floors by navigating them. Turning a corner, the Time Lord ran swiftly to the end of the hall. He could hear voices nearby; no doubt they were trying to cut him off from any exit. The closest access panel, however, was about a dozen rooms away.

His eyes looked back and forth, finally settling on a door that he'd very nearly missed seeing. Unlike the other offices, this door was recessed from the others with a narrow, short hallway leading up to it. Instead of wood or glass, it appeared to be made of solid metal.

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps prompted him into action, and the Doctor darted quickly down the darkened path.

Carefully, he leaned back against the door, letting the shadows of the area obscure his presence. His left hand found the distinctive shape of a bolt, and the Doctor traced his fingers delicately over the surface. It was constructed of reinforced steel, and the slight thrum of energy apparent on its surface indicated it was more than just a simple slide lock.

He chanced a quick scan with the sonic, positioning his body so as to dampen the sound. The readings indicated this was a deadlock seal. Curiously though, it was disengaged. Cautiously, the Doctor fumbled along the side until his fingers grazed an unmistakable button.

A light touch was all it needed, and the door slid open with a muted hiss. The Doctor hesitated for a moment, eyes scanning the immediate area before taking two steps in. The door shut instantly behind him, nearly catching the hem of his jacket. Before he could stop it, the Doctor heard the distinct click of a lock sliding into place. Well, that might be a problem in a few minutes. But for now, the fact that he couldn't get out also meant that no one could get in.

The room was smaller than he expected, hardly bigger than a janitor's closet. A single light dangled from the ceiling, casting a weak light over the dingy walls. There was a small, steel-topped worktable pushed into the corner and piled high with dust-ridden books and file folders. Apart from a rickety-looking chair, the room was empty.

He frowned, reaching out and running a finger down the wall. Like the door, they were also constructed from strengthened metal. Surely the books and the mundane furniture didn't warrant such a secure room. He turned his head, glancing at this side of the door. There was a control panel at eye level to one side, obviously used for opening it. Clearly this wasn't designed for containing prisoners. So why put in a deadlock, steel walls and a high-tech door?

There was something more here, he was sure of it. The Doctor stepped right up to the wall, pressing his cheek against the cold surface. He felt a tingle, just the barest brush of energy from the metal. There was a current running underneath it, and it got stronger the closer to got to the back wall. He could just hear the steady, rhythmic beats as it cycled.

The Time Lord moved towards the table, slowly guiding the sonic screwdriver in a wide arc in front of the wall. If he wasn't mistaken, there was some type of cloaking device present. It appeared to be concentrated on the back wall, possibly obscuring the rest of the room.

He frowned, examining the sonic closely. The mechanical part of the cloaking projector was deadlocked; the Doctor couldn't open it with brute force. But if it was anything like other similar devices he'd encountered over the centuries, then it had a key. Well, not really a key. More like a backdoor. Basically, it was a built-in code or protocol that would allow it to be deactivated should the need arise. So where was it?

His eyes fell back onto the table. There were folders filled with yellowed papers: some were handwritten while others were typed. Dust coated each of them liberally; obviously, these hadn't been touched for years. The books, however, had a lighter layer of grime than the papers. The Doctor picked them up one by one, carefully scrutinizing each one. Most of them were outdated academic texts covering scientific and mathematical subjects. A couple were more recent, published by the Torchwood Institute and featuring articles penned by their in-house specialists on various alien-related topics.

The Doctor's hand paused over one of the last ones. He had almost pushed it aside with the others, but the title made him stop: _dårlig ulv stranden_. "Bad wolf bay," he murmured, pondering the words. Something about it seemed familiar, like he'd heard it before but hadn't been paying attention.

He flipped it open, eyes narrowing. The pages were blank. Every single one of them.


End file.
